Long Unbeknown Poems

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Premium Member Richard the Third - a Poem Especially For Amelia

Amelia she loves to chat and tells an amusing story
But dear readers BEWARE – this one’s a little gory
She worked long hours at night as a barmaid
It was a job she loved and good wages she got paid

She’d had a busy day and her pits were a little whiffy
So she had a little bath – it would only take a jiffy
So into the bath Amelia got, she sank into the bubbles
But this was only the beginning of Amelia’s troubles

Amelia did a little fart but unfortunately followed through
And in the bath was floating a little bit of poo
Amelia got out quickly and left the bath to drain
But unbeknown to her the turd it did remain

She got dressed and ready to go - she had to get her lift
To the pub she loved to work in she always enjoyed her shift
With the customers Amelia was always a big hit
She didn’t let on her secret that in the bath she’d done a little poop*

But it was a Wednesday night and a quiz was on this day
Amelia she loved this challenge and she would always play
The final question stumped many people but they wanted to be the winner
Which barmaid crapped in the bath tonight and could they name the sinner?

The one in the white t-shirt some of the customers did shout
Amelia went as red as a beetroot- she couldn’t wait to get out
But the customers they did shout and cheer
And poor Amelia had to pour them another beer

Now Amelia no longer works in the bar
She works as a receptionist – she’s really come far
She loves her new job and always likes to talk
But to stop her following through now she always wears a cork.

·	I had to change this from the S*** word as I know swearing is not allowed – but the expletive does make the poem flow better.

Jan Allison
19th March 2014

~submitted for contest Take 2 Free poetry contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud ~
 - Unplaced in contest 'tickle my funny bone' sponsored by Francine Roberts ~


~ Please see notes about this poem ~
Form: Rhyme


Get Low- Three Trains

Three trains

 
	The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died
	pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside
	The second train was unemployed and heading where it will
	no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill
	Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express
	out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless.
	Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one
	who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong.
	But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see
	the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me.
	Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do
	no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through
	as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side
	the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived
	the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance
	buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance. 
        Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear
	just left with total darkness and no way from out of here
	all the wreckage pressing down  meant nowhere else to go
	just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low.
	So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day
	the sounds of all around me going on their merry way.
	Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release
	comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace
	until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout,
	'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'.
	From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see
	until the realisation that the sound had come from me
	skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way
	and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day.
	No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade
	life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made.
	Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger
	and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer.


            For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance

	In memory of that dreadful year 2002.
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Clout

When vultures cast sardonic smiles on his waning soul

Rehearsed their hisses for a feast of agony and epitaph

She gripped the moment and clawed her nails into his skin

                    Like pikes into a lover’s cross

A wake-up call struck the mind of the silent falling ghost

Whispered like a distant ceremonial angel in spiked disguise 

Lit a scented candle and disavowed her festering claws
	
                    Scars turned into lightening stars

The wounds became too loose for manicured incisions

Thus he wound free from cynical talon’s lacerations

‘Keep the coffin with broken seals and rusty hinges’

                    Return to sender mailer demon unbeknown

26th May 2019

Premium Member Entropic Acts Of

... kindness a word a glance a tender embrace

          regardless of class gender orientation or race

a hug with no questions or conditions assigned

          touch and caress and horizon to be realigned


skin upon skin mind for the rescue of sorrow

          soft touch and a cuddle bow and an arrow

that reaches the target of gentle compassion

          offering from the heart in unassuming fashion


hope conveyed and shared from one to the other

          that reaches a friend spouse sibling or mother

those yet unbeknown and yet worthy of care

          a treasure box and priceless gift out of nowhere


there are no boundaries limits or taxes to expend

          no stamp in passports only warm affection to spend

goodwill and concern travels beyond any frontier

          kindness does not mind if you are straight square or *****


the rewards are immeasurable the interest is huge

          no trickery guise or deceit only healing and refuge

from a world engulfed in hatred anger and war

          in which random endearment heals right from the core


09th June 2020
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Time Arrow From Yesterday

The forward-pointing fight of jolly time overflies.
And today blurs into a missing yesterday reprise.
The present blossom has dwindled and faded away,
Into a meager light reminiscence of yesterday.

Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels

It's sobering to discover a shattered soul in ruin.
The rage of this life was my deep eternal bane.
Heroic hearts provide a sense of timelessness.
Only to be misled after restoring to endlessness.

Wildwood snuggles,
haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
tomorrow marvels

Unbeknown to the utterly ecstatic child.
On bestow, eternality on previous days riled.
He abused the promises devoted to himself that day.
As a result, auld enough, therefore a relentless journey.

A young sparrow meets a growing north wind.
His ambitions don't adapt to the pride designed.
And a terrible yet enlightening event arose.
Men envy the sunbird on the sky, tells the prose.

Wildwood snuggles,
Haystacks of sparkles,
yesterday struggles,
Tomorrow marvels.

Written: November 29, 2021

1st Place contest winner.

''Y'' Contest, New Poems - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Immortal

I’m writing this, so I’m not forgotten
Actions and intentions ebb, once the bones be rotten
I once planted an apple tree, to leave my mark
As tall as a house, still unbeknown, still my name in the dark
I once painted a painting and wrote a book
So I can get famous and find me a nook
Though I had talent, it wasn’t in my heart
Other talents I searched for, so I could stand apart
During this period, I discovered I could rhyme
A talent well hidden, but there all this time
Eternal is my pen, the quest for immortality my aim
Immortal be the victor, the champion of the game
I was here!!! I want it to be known throughout the ages
“He was extraordinary”, I wish to be written in the history pages
Once great kings, lie in their graves, many unknowns
Powerful men, who ruled from golden thrones
Nevertheless for those lucky and the few
Enshrined in history, I inspire to be one too
Here’s my challenge to future generations
Even after the coming and going of great powerful nations
My words will be read, and my name will resound 
My voice will live on, it will never be drowned
© Amar Qamar  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Imagism

Premium Member Cyborgs of the Corn

Tapping into our neurons 
       where only brain cells should go 
       Past dreams mean nothing now 
        unconscious thoughts just flow 

          An abstract realm of reason
         touchpad signals unbeknown 
      Fires up, post-human imagination 
        our intelligence genes regrown 

          And so it's all written in code
          old commandments redrawn
          Binary replaces ancient Latin
          age of replicants has dawned 

         Interfaced with artificial reality
            and engaged to usb clones 
          We marry terabyte processors
          reproducing ten billion drones

       Reprogrammed ancient scriptures 
           floods overwhelm our homes
          Heaven and hell's using robots 
          I-God now accedes the throne 

  
By
David Kavanagh
Form: Rhyme

Builders of Reality

"Time drops all these moments as
decayed, spoiled riches.
And vibrating strings of light
dance the tip of Souls while 
enjoying the orchestra
of all life!" -- E.P. Robles

--

[Too late; as late as it gets thought I.]

Upon this very late or very early
morning while i began to realize
i left my dreaming snoring then upon
a glint from parted curtains I was certain
a something queerly missing ~ or should
i say amiss.

There, upon the fabric of dusty thoughts
while peering out my window pane
i came to see a dastardly scene that
almost certainly brought me to my knees!
There upon the shrouded street
were many short blue-clothed things
busily erasing each moment as it passed.
Unbeknown that "i" was one between
the 'there' and 'here' they froze
all the while i stood and stared;
"Oh no oh no!" they screamed at me
squirming then churning they moved
and rebuilt the past you see
and found myself in bed again
and all ends well that begins
and all beginnings have always been
--endings are myth!

:: 04-20-2017 ::

Turning To God

As I turn to you once again my Lord
The anger burning a hole thru my heart
What must I do this time to be restored
Why must all of my love have to depart

For the devil to just leave me alone
Why his demons attacked was unbeknown

Praying you will relieve me of this pain
Since I'm now using all this hurt to hurt
My heart has now slowed weakened by the strain
Thick skin keeps my soul totally inert

While the undeserved pain turns into sin 
I'm left to battle the demons within

My trust assures God will be by my side
Offering his warm embrace full of love
And the strength that's needed he shall provide
To win my war and reach Heaven above

7/4/2017
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member 'his Perfect Choice'

Your footsteps might disappear after a while 
Your voice might go silent at times 
Your needs will not be visible to others 
Unless you voice them 

Not everyone has the gift of reading between the lines 
Not everyone listens to the gentle nudge life gives them
Unbeknown to others you might struggle 
Your heartbeat might have gone faint 
Your zest for life crippled 

In those moments 
Your maker has you under His wings 
He is your protector 
He might send a stranger your way 
Or a long forgotten friend might look for you again 
Not intentionally 

But because He worked behind the veil 
He knew you wouldn't get it if he sends a known entity
That's why he chose the people or things 
You are not familiar with 

Don't cringe at His choice 
Embrace the comfort or joy they bring

©154316042015

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